IN OLD BOMBAY.
"I never expected it to look like this," remarked Faith in a
dissatisfied tone, as they entered the carriage for their first
explorations in Bombay, a day or so later.
She spoke to the air, perhaps, but her father answered the comment.
"Isn't it fine enough to please you, daughter?" as he took his seat
opposite the two girls in a handsome victoria, that would not have
disgraced the most aristocratic drive in London.
"Fine enough? It's too fine!" put in Hope with emphasis. "It's as
Englishy as Portsmouth itself, so far. We expected to see coolies, and
palanquins, and bungalows, and cobras, and--"
"Well, you need not hanker long after the last-named," laughed her
father, "for there is a snake-charmer this minute, and I don't doubt he
has a fine collection about him somewhere."
"In his boots, perhaps," suggested Faith slily, as they all turned to
gaze at the dark-skinned fellow in dingy white turban and loin-cloth,
who squatted on the sidewalk before one of those high modern buildings
which had excited Faith's comment, a long pipe at his lips and a basket
at his side, from which peeped an ugly flat head with darting tongue.
"Ugh!" she shuddered, turning another way, "I don't care for your
cobras, Hope, and everybody knows that bungalows aren't to be found in
city streets. But as for the coolies and palanquins, of course--"
"You have them both!" laughed the captain, pointing down the narrower
street into which they had just entered.
All laughed with him, while the black bearers trotted by, as suddenly,
from between the curtains of this box-like carriage, out popped a
tennis cap, while a well-known voice shouted a boyish "Hello!" as a
hand was waved in greeting.
"It's Dwight--Hello! Hello!" Hope shouted back, waving her white
parasol vigorously. "Isn't he the greatest boy?"
"I wonder if he'll turn up on that bullock cart, too. He seems
omnipresent!" laughed the captain, as they whirled by. "When are they
off for Poonah?"
"I suppose to-day, but perhaps not till night," returned Faith.
"Did you ever see anything like that? If you call this Englishy, Hope."
"No, I don't. Things are beginning to look quite Indiany, since we
left those fine new streets, I confess."
They were now slowly threading their way among the teeming crowds of a
narrow place where it seemed as if the odd-looking houses upon each
side had emptied all their occupants out before their doors. Men but
half-clothed spread out their wares, or plied their trades, in full
view of all, and children with no clothes at all paddled their bare
black feet in the gutters, or sat cross-legged, rolling marbles over
the paving stones. Presently, Faith pointed with a significant smile,
and as they drove slowly by a teeming doorway, each gazed with
astonished curiosity at the characteristic scene.
The central figure was a man in the barber's hands, who was just then
calmly lathering his customer's face in the full gaze of all, while
close by a straight, lithe, young Indian woman, with a bright-eyed baby
sitting astride her hips, stopped to sell the two a handful of figs,
from the fruit-tray balanced lightly above the gay cotton sari
confining her dark locks.
"The men seem to have the best time of it here," remarked the girl in
low tones. "The idea of that poor girl carrying so much about with
her. I should think her baby was enough!"
"Yes, but that is better than being harnessed up with a donkey," said
her father, bending forward to give the driver some instructions.
Faith looked at him with an astonished gaze.
"I never heard you speak of marriage like that before," she said
reproachfully.
"Marriage?" He looked at her with a dazed expression, then broke into
a hearty laugh. "So you thought my donkey was a husband? A queer
mistake that! No, I meant the real thing--the four-legged donkey--and
I literally mean that poor women are often used with donkeys to do the
same kind of work."
"Shameful!" cried Hope indignantly.
"That is by no means the worst that woman has to bear in this country.
I thank God my daughters came to a Christian land. A girl is of little
account here, except to bear burdens, or wait on her lord and master.
And when her husband dies she is to be deeply pitied. Married when but
a small child, she goes into her husband's family to be cared for by
his people, until old enough to be his wife in reality. Sometimes she
is well treated, sometimes not. If he does not happen to fancy her as
she grows older, her lot is little better than that of a slave, and she
is beaten and abused by the other more favored women. But this is
bliss compared with her condition should her husband die. Then, all
her ornaments, which she loves as little children love glittering toys,
are torn off, her head is shaved, she is made to look as hideous as
possible, and cannot take part in any enjoyments or festivities
whatever, but must run away and hide from every man, even her nearest
of kin. But she is not only barred from every pleasure, but from all
affection, as well. Her lord's death is laid at her door, and his
family take every occasion to load her with reproaches, because if she
had not been wicked in some other existence he would not have been lost
to her now. It is not much wonder that the poor things used to be
ready to die with him on the funeral pyre, for when they decided to do
that, they were loaded with jewels and praises, everybody flattered
them and told them that, because of their devotion, not only the
husband, but all his relatives, would have better places in Paradise,
and reign forever. So, intoxicated with all this notice, and delighted
with her splendid attire, the benighted little creature, who never gets
beyond childhood in intellect, felt she would rather have a short life
and a merry one, and so often committed Suttee."
"And don't they do so now?" asked Hope.
"No, it is abolished by law--British law.
"But they burn their dead yet, don't they?" was Faith's question, as
she listened with sympathetic shivers.
"Yes. Some day, when I get time we will go to the Ganges and see some
of their strange burial ceremonies--that is, if you can stand it,
daughter."
"Oh yes, but I do think there are some dreadful things in this world,
papa!"
"True, darling, and there would have been more dreadful, if the blessed
Son of God had not come to teach us better ways. Man, left to himself,
is always a savage. God and good women, both, have helped him to be
better."
He spoke reverently, touching the visor of his cap involuntarily. When
he thought of good women, memory always recalled the wife he had loved,
and his soul blessed her memory.
They had now left the new town far behind them, and were slowly passing
between expressionless house walls, with soiled awnings stretched above
the lane-like street. The whole population seemed to live out of
doors, and the cooking, hammering, tailoring, baby-tending, and
lounging, was all done at so close range that the horses could scarcely
keep from stepping on the merchants, and the carriage was in danger of
making a wreck of his stock of goods. The houses, which seemed only to
serve as backgrounds to all this teeming life, were of all colors--red,
green, orange, and blue--and between the queer, many-shaped roof-tops
waved the feathery crowns of date trees, the glossy foliage of the fig,
and the stately fronds of the palm--but these were of scanter growth
just here, though what there were, swarmed with kites, crows,
parakeets, and even squirrels, while dogs "by the million," as Hope
remarked, and cattle, and monkeys, and goats, were on every spot where
babies and larger children had left an inch of room.
As they penetrated further into the native portion of the city, Captain
Hosmer called the girls' attention to the many shrines, where some one
was always standing with clasped hands and bent head, engaged in
prayers to Parvati, perhaps, or Vishnu--for the image in the shrine
differed--and to the peculiar reverence which every Hindu shows to the
cow, a sacred animal to them. The gentle creature seems actually one
of the family, possibly prized even more than the children, for it
furnishes them with food, drink and fuel and receives in return the
first notice and care.
"The orthodox Hindu will feed his cow before he does himself," said the
captain. "And as he does so, he will repeat a little invocation, and
when he meets one on the road he will touch her sleek side and then his
own forehead, that so her blessings may be upon his head."
"And let his daughters be treated worse than dogs," breathed Hope in
deep disgust.
"Father," said Faith with sudden fervor. "I am ashamed of myself that
I ever begrudged the little bit of missionary money I used to give at
Sunday-school. If I could have realized how much these people need to
be taught better, I would have given four times as much, and weighted
it with prayers. Why, I think it is awful!"
"And yet this land is far advanced in decency and civilization compared
with many," was the reply. "With the missionary, the trained nurse,
and the railroad, India is in a fair way to become thoroughly
enlightened before a half-century has rolled away. The trouble is that
she clings so to her own cherished ideas of caste, and of worship.
Personally the Hindostanee is a good fellow--gentle, charitable, and a
loyal friend--but he is so priest-ridden, and so filled with
superstitions and notions, that it is almost impossible to get any
sense, far less any Christianity, into his pate. I have a large
respect for those who stay here year by year, braving a climate that is
enough to take all the life out of the strongest, and laboring with
this prejudiced people, just because it is their duty. Folks oughtn't
to begrudge them a few pennies, saved from candy or ribbons, my dear."
"No," said Faith, leaning back and closing her eyes a moment. "What a
glare it is!" she murmured wearily. "The sun is so hot, and the light
so white and blinding; then the houses are so dreadfully blue and pink,
and the crows and people so black, and the dogs so greedy, and
everything so noisy, it makes my head ache!"
"It _is_ wearing, daughter, and one can't stand too much of it at
once." He gave another order, and they presently came into a wider
street, that was almost like a viaduct for shelter, as awnings were
stretched above it the whole length. There was scarcely any life here,
and the high stone walls of wealthy homes shut them in, with only an
occasional balcony, or latticed window, to break the monotony of their
blank surfaces.
"Here live the native families of the highest caste," explained the
captain, "and inside are beautiful courts, with flowers and fountains,
where they lounge and live, as the lower classes do in the streets.
But it is cooler here, if not so lively."
"Delicious!" murmured Faith enjoyingly, still resting her eyes where
there was little to see.
They turned from this shaded way into one of the new streets and, as
the carriage suddenly stopped with an exclamation from her father, she
looked up to see Huri, Tegeloo, and a half-dozen other Mohammedans of
the "International," bowing to the ground before them, their white
teeth showing in their fine dark faces, full of joy and devotion. On
Tegeloo's wrist perched Texas, while a little black head popped up from
a fold of Huri's mantle, and both bird and monkey began a noisy
greeting in their own tongues--which meant a vociferous "Hello!" from
the former and a chuckling cry from the latter. Warned by past
experience the girls had left their pets on shipboard, in care of these
faithful servants, who now were evidently giving them an airing.
"How nice of you, Tegeloo!" cried Hope, stroking the parrot, who
grunted with satisfaction, and informed her many times that he was
still, "Poor Texas, pretty Texas!" nipping her finger gently as he
sidled and snuggled, while Andy leaped to Faith's lap, and was so
determined to stay that he had to be removed by force, soft-hearted
Faith looking back at the crying baby with the expression of a mother
bereft of her child.
"Andy got swell-head!" laughed Huri, as he stroked him into submission,
"Andy like to ride in big carriage. He no walk!" at which resentful
Andy gave him a sounding slap that promptly ended his comments.